


mutual comfort

by SoManyThings



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alcohol, Canon Compliant, M/M, Sexual Content, Slow Build, Unrequited Crush, frankly some pretty awful choices made by shirabu, medium sexual content if u will, theres no tag for anything between explicit and mild sexual content but thats what this is lol
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-18
Updated: 2016-12-18
Packaged: 2018-09-09 15:54:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 10,270
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8898166
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SoManyThings/pseuds/SoManyThings
Summary: 'Goshiki stood awkwardly in the door, frozen like a deer in headlights, looking down at his teammate. He usually had to look down at Shirabu, because of his height, but this was different. Shirabu was always short, but right now he just looked small.'---Goshiki comes across something he probably shouldn't have after their teams loss to Shiratorizawa, and Shirabu deals with it horribly. It can only go up from there, right? Right?





	1. Tournaments and Realisations

“We’ve got an hour before the awards ceremony,” Reon said, crouching down to where Goshiki leant against the cold wall. “How about you go wash your face and cool down?”

Goshiki nodded dully. At least he had stopped sobbing by now. He was helped up and handed a full bottle of water and towel to take with him, as he wandered semi-aimlessly out of the gym.

_ ‘You’re only a first year, you’ve got lots more opportunities.’ _

_ ‘You’re a strong player with room for development.’ _

_ ‘Keep working at it, Tsutomu.’ _

All the platitudes, all the sympathetic smiles from random spectators, all the speeches from coaches, none of them stuck in his head. None of them soothed the sting of the frankly  _ stupid _ points he had lost the team by hitting a serve out, hesitating, fucking up a block.

He had hardly had an active thought since the game ended, even after he stopped crying. He had just played five solid sets, and was absolutely  _ exhausted.  _ He blinked, realising he hadn’t even noticed how far he had gone or how long he had been walking for. Looking up and around, he noted a bathroom just behind him, one of the smaller ones tucked away in a corner, before back tracking and opening the door with another tired sigh. 

The dull fog around his mind cleared instantly when he saw the scene in front of him.

Shirabu was on the ground, back heaved against the wall, knees to his chest, head in his hands and shoulders shaking with sobs. The tap still ran in the background, even if it still wasn’t loud enough to drown out noisy tears falling from his face.

Goshiki stood awkwardly in the door, frozen like a deer in headlights, looking down at his teammate. He usually had to look down at Shirabu, because of his height, but this was different. Shirabu was always short, but right now he just looked  _ small. _

Shirabu looked up at the door when he realised he was no longer alone. His face was red and blotchy, but it seemed to get redder - anger or embarrassment? - on seeing who exactly had disturbed him.

“What are you staring at?” He yelled, fists curling into his hair harder, as if on reflex. 

“Nothing!”

“Fuck off, then!”

Goshiki wavered. He couldn’t just leave his teammate, though, could he? He clearly wanted to be alone, but at the same time, was that a good idea? They had just lost, after five sets, some of which extended to deuces, where Shirabu had played just long as he had, in the last opportunity for nationals of the year-

“What the  _ fuck  _ are you gawking at?” Shirabu yelled, again, louder. Goshiki jumped, but nonetheless awkwardly stepped into the bathroom, letting the door shut behind him. He can’t  _ leave  _ him, surely. Shirabu rolled his eyes, angrily, which Goshiki honestly didn’t think was a possible feat. Shirabu managed it.

Goshiki crouched down next to Shirabu, still fundamentally uncertain, and offered him his towel without saying anything. Shirabu huffed and grabbed the towel from Goshiki’s hands, burying his face in it for a moment before scrubbing it up and down his face. Gently, Goshiki placed a hand on Shirabu’s shoulder.

“ _ What _ ,” Shirabu hissed, “do you think you’re doing?”

“I’m sorry! I- when I’m upset, my sister-”

Shirabu threw the towel across the bathroom towards the sink. “I’m  _ fine,  _ Goshiki!” He spit, getting up on his haunches and standing quickly, making Goshiki lose his balance in the process and tumble to the floor.

He scrambled up to stand quickly, still managing to tower over Shirabu. Before he could lose his nerve, or even consider what to do next, he was wrapping his arms around the shorter male and squeezing tight.

“I know you’re upset because I’m upset too and we’re all upset and we’re a  _ team  _ and we may as well deal with this loss together!” He yelled, practically into Shirabu’s ear. The words all fell out of his mouth at once, like one big breath leaving his mouth, causing him to inhale sharply afterwards before squeezing onto him tighter in what seemed like an attempt to be comforting.

Shirabu stood frozen in place, before pushing Goshiki away from him (surprisingly gentle). He had shut his eyes tightly, and peaked one open when he realised Shirabu was neither hitting nor yelling at him. Instead, Shirabu stood quietly, less overwhelmingly red but still slightly pink, looking up at Goshiki. Goshiki just looked back down, and rose an eyebrow quizzingly.

“Shirabu-senp-”

And then Shirabu was kissing him.

It was hardly  _ romantic.  _ They had both been sobbing less than 10 minutes ago (Goshiki’s eyes were still puffy; all of Shirabu was still blotchy) and they were in a public toilet of a grimy, old gymnasium. And it wasn’t hot or heady; it was Shirabu standing up on his toes and pressing his lips roughly against Goshiki’s, for hardly even a second.

But the strangest part was that Goshiki  _ kissed back _ , moving to follow Shirabu’s mouth when he pulled back. And then they were both kissing each other, only just moving their lips against each other but still managing it to be a hard pressure, laced with the tiniest bit of need and desperation. Shirabu’s hands were pressing Goshiki’s shoulders back into the wall, resting his weight on the taller boy as he led the kiss.

And then, as quick as it had happened, he was dropping back down to stand evenly and glaring up at Goshiki’s shocked (and now far more prominently red) face, with his open gaping mouth and dark full face flush.

“Wha-”

“This doesn’t mean I like you,” Shirabu said, cutting him off. Goshiki wasn’t wide shouldered, or strong,  or a well established and capable ace-

He shook off that thought as quickly as it had arrived. Yes, he was sad they had lost, and yes, he wanted to go to nationals again. So yes, the sobbing was in part due to that. He never thought they would lose, but the shock of it all had dulled the pain. It wasn’t like this was his final year to ever have a shot at helping his team to nationals. But remembering that it was the last year on this specific team, with these specific teammates, or  _ captains-  _ that had hurt.

So yeah, he wanted to kiss someone to dull the pain again. _Sue_ _him_.

Before Goshiki could ask him to elaborate, or give any clarification whatsoever, the door to the bathroom opened inwards and Goshiki jumped out of his skin.

“There you two are, coach wants to see us all before the ceremony-” Yamagata said, looking like he had been searching the whole gym for the two of them. Shirabu nodded and walked out, wordlessly. Goshiki followed, still in a stupor.

“Feeling any better, Tsutomu?” Yamagata asked, putting a hand around his shoulder again with the same sympathetic look he had been getting from everyone in the past half hour. Goshiki nodded, slowly, still confused, and let himself be led out back to the gym.

_ ‘Why did I kiss him back?’ _ he asked himself, staring down at the floor. It was hardly as if he  _ liked  _ Shirabu. He kind of  _ really _ got on his nerves, to be honest. But being kissed first- that was all a sad, confused, gay boy with a hopeless crush on his soon to be ex-captain needed.

Even still, the question circulated through his mind, without any answer in sight. It was a distraction throughout the ceremony, something to ponder rather than listening to the cheers for the other team. It was a distraction throughout the bus ride back, where he sat as far away from Shirabu as humanly possible. It was a distraction long through the night, until he stopped flopping around on his bed and decided to just  _ forget about it. _

He’d forget about it, and that would be that.

\-----

He didn’t forget about it.

Not at first, that is. Far from it, really, given that it had been on Goshiki’s mind pretty consistently in the time between losing and starting the next school year. But as the new year began, and he moved into his second year and that next step closer to truly being Shiratorizawa’s ace - well, there was hardly any time to think about it.

As time went on, it had just sort of… faded. It was still something he thought about from time to time, but with less urgency, and nowhere near as much vibrancy. By the end of April, it became relegated to an inexplicable phenomenon that had happened, an anecdote of his time in first year for years down the line.

“Alright, laps!” Shirabu yelled, loudly, over the echoey smack of balls and squeak of volleyball shoes bouncing around the gymnasium. The new selection of first years got to it, excitedly, but before long they had competitions and races interspersed throughout what was really just a routine drill.

As per  _ fucking usual.  _

“God damn it,” Shirabu muttered. He had not been anywhere near as annoying towards Ushijima as these little shits were. “Taichi, can you-”

“C’mon, get to it or you’ll never get to our level!” Goshiki yelled out, louder than Shirabu, before he could even finish his sentence. He would have usually found time to be annoyed, but had no reason to when the first years jumped to it and straightened out. 

Goshiki turned to Shirabu, beaming a wide, bright smile at him, and flashing a thumbs up. Shirabu blinked at him in response.

“Leave it to your ace, captain!” He called; this time, Shirabu rolled his eyes and turned back to the charts he had been looking through.

“Fucking Goshiki,” he muttered, rifling through the notes.  

Shirabu could not say the same about having forgotten the end of the Spring Tournament, but god  _ damn  _ had he tried. His approach was more of an aggressive “out of sight out of mind” type, and that meant aggressively denying any logic that ever would have led him to kiss Goshiki. 

And yet, here he was, with Goshiki the excitable and shockingly determined ace, being helpful and hardworking and cute and-

“Fuck,” he cursed, turning to glare at the words with increased determination. 

Practice carried on uneventfully for a while, with the first years  _ finally _ getting down to work. Shirabu silently thanked Goshiki in his mind, appreciating the respite. 

By the end of the evening, however, it was apparent that  _ respite  _ hadn’t been high on Goshiki’s list of priorities. As the team got off the court and made their way to the sides, it was clear that his enthusiasm and practically all his energy had dwindled to nothing.

With a groan, he collapsed against the wall next to his captain, rubbing at his thighs. Shirabu looked up from where he was reading through the notes he had made, still silent.

“What’s wrong with you?” he asked, after a while, if only to check that Goshiki could, in fact breath without hyperventilating and subtly find out if there was actually a problem with his legs. After a moment, Goshiki caught his breath and replied. 

“I can't feel my legs,” he breathed out, gasping a small bit as he did.

“There's a solution for that, Goshiki, called resting.”

“I don’t have time to rest when I still have so far to improve, Shirabu-” he moaned, dejectedly.

“Don’t be so hard on yourself,” Shirabu responded harshly, cutting him off. “Ushijima-san had faith in you, and that has to count for something.” 

“But inter-highs are so close, Shirabu-san, and I’m still just- _ ” _

“‘Just’ what? You’re hardly  _ weak _ , Goshiki,” he fired back. “You were a starting player in Shiratorizawa in your  _ first year,  _ and already an ace in your second.”  

Goshiki gave Shirabu a look, eyes wide and mouth open slightly. He belatedly realised this is the first time anyone aside from Goshiki had acknowledged that he was, in fact, their teams ace. 

“And even then, you’re still so much stronger from where you were at the Spring Tournament. You hesitate less, and your jump serve is really coming along,” he continued, suddenly not able to stop. “You’re strong enough for the team, Tsutomu, because you’re a strong player. Don’t forget that.”

Shirabu had turned back to the clipboard as he spoke, but when Goshiki still hadn’t said anything, he chanced a look up at him. He was pink, from more than just exertion, and his mouth was dropped open. 

“ _ What? _ ” Shirabu asked, beginning to get the smallest bit annoyed. 

“I- just, you said-” he began, essentially at a loss for words. Shirabu stood and finished packing up his bag.

“Close your mouth, you look like a fish.” He said. 

“Thank you, Shirabu-san,” was the response. He turned and rose an eyebrow, returned by Goshiki blankly for a moment before he replayed the words and grasped the misunderstanding. “Thank you for calling me strong! Not, the fish-” 

Shirabu rolled his eyes, with the hint of a smile on his face. 

“Don’t forget to lock up when you’re done!” he called back, before walking out into the quiet night air. 

As he left the bright lights of the gym and made his way towards his dorm, he let his mind wander. Goshiki  _ had _ changed, even though hardly any time had passed. That much was obvious. His increased skill in volleyball was a given. The silly mistakes he had made throughout his first year were negligible at this point. ‘ _ Dear god, if he’s at this stage as a second year, seeing him next year will be a spectacle,’  _ he thought to himself. 

But more than that, it was just… an overall development. He was less of an awkward, lanky first year, for one. Filling himself out, Shirabu supposed. And generally, just the role model a powerhouse school ace ought to be. Helpful and kind, but energetic and enthusiastic. Confident, but with an underlying degree of humbleness. He was becoming a well established, capable ace-

“Oh no,” Shirabu muttered, stopping harshly in his tracks. He stared ahead of him, at nothing in particular as the shocking realisation swam around his head. Pressing his hands to his eyes, he groaned in frustration.

“Oh  _ no,” _ he moaned, louder this time. 

\-----

Goshiki did remember to lock up the gym. That was a mistake he made far too frequently last year, and a mistake he was not keen to make again. 

_ ‘Guess he was right about me having changed,’  _ Goshiki thought to himself, as he opened the door to the clubroom to start getting changed. Shirabu had gone straight back to his dorm, whereas Goshiki had always preferred to leave his things in the clubroom and spend time there cooling down before heading back. 

He had noticed some changes in himself over the past year - a better serve, for one. And if he really thought about it, he supposed that he  _ was _ hesitating less when it came to moving for receives. He never would have thought to put it together in as complimentary a way as Shirabu had seemed to suggest, though. 

Although if he thought about it  _ that  _ sense _ ,  _ he noticed that Shirabu was changing just as much. Sure, he had always been bossy, but nowadays it was less yelling insults, and more suggesting directions. Not to mention the fact that with this development from  _ bossy _ to  _ helpful  _ came genuine encouragement.

He was quicker to point out when Goshiki did something good, rather than capitalising on the mistakes and criticising him for them. This, of course, was something Goshiki had noticed very quickly - always keen to pick up on praise in order to repeat and improve whatever he had done the first time. The key to Goshiki’s advancement was compliments: he offhandedly wondered if Shirabu realised and exploited that. 

It was something Goshiki had discovered when Ushijima was around. It had never had to be for something major, but nonetheless seeking approval from his captain, from the ace, had always been high on Goshiki’s wants and desires. When this inevitably required him to work his fucking ass off, and resulted in improvement along the way, well. It was just win-win, right?

_ ‘But maybe that was just Ushiwaka-senpai,’  _ he thought to himself.  _ ‘Or maybe a captain thing?’ _

He hummed to himself, finally gathering all his things and making his way out of the clubroom. 

“Maybe if I had kissed Shirabu-san better he would have approved,” he said to himself quietly, not thinking, while shutting the door and locking it behind him. When he realised what he had said, he dropped the keys. 

And just like that, the thoughts were back, in full vibrancy. And suddenly his mind was full of possibilities, potentials - what Shirabu would have done  _ if.  _ Goshiki’s eyes widened, and he felt his face beginning to burn. The thoughts flooded through his mind, at what could have happened if it wasn’t just a kiss that he accepted because he was sad and confused and hopelessly gay for his ex-captain.

“Fuck me, I have a thing for captains,” he mumbled, before shaking his head to try and clear his thoughts, and making his way towards his dorm and away from, what he hoped would be, a one off thought train.

\-----

“C’mon, Kenjirou, it’s a  _ Friday! _ ” Taichi called from the door of the gym, over to where his captain crouched by his things, still writing up notes from that day’s session. It was May, and he was busier than ever. 

“You guys go on ahead, I’ll meet up with you later,” he responded with a call, not looking up from his things. Taichi rolled his eyes and wandered out.

“You coming, Goshiki?” he asked. Goshiki had wavered at the door, looking back to his captain. Shirabu still didn’t look up, and he sighed, turning to the other third years and heading off. It hadn’t been that long since the realisation that he might have a  _ teeny  _ thing for Shirabu hit Goshiki, and unsurprisingly, memories of the kiss (and a significant number of other daydreams) had been fully vivid in his head, near constantly.  

It had only been a matter of minutes of walking before he piped up, “I forgot my shoes!” and dashed back, ignoring the laughing third years and calls of “Nothing’s changed, huh!”. He hastily walked back, patting his bag to make sure he hadn’t  _ actually  _ lost his shoes, and tried to convince himself this was a decent plan. 

He reached the gym, quicker on the way back, and his heart dropped only the smallest amount when he saw the lights turned off, and the doors firmly shut. 

“What are you doing?” 

Goshiki jolted, spinning around to see Shirabu standing with his things draped over his back.

“Oh- I, uh, forgot my- uh, shoes-” he said, realising belatedly Shirabu would’ve noticed his shoes had they been left on the bench. But at this point, he had no better plan. Shirabu rolled his eyes, with a soft frown. 

“I’m sorry, I’ve put the keys away already,” he started. “Can you wait until tomorrow?” 

Goshiki shrugged. The only thing he’d actually lost was a shot at more time to flirt with Shirabu, and while that was a loss in itself, he did suppose it  _ could  _ wait. But he’d be damned if he didn’t try to do it anyway.

“So are you going to meet the other third years for food?” He asked, beginning to fall into step with his captain as they walked from the gym. 

“No, I’m going back to my room to carry on organising the team,” he responded. 

Goshiki frowned. ‘ _ There goes that plan,’ _ he thought to himself, but nodded anyway. He didn’t really fancy spending time with the rest of the third years either, if he was honest with himself. He loved them all, really and truly, but at the same time-

“Are you?”

“Huh?” he looked up. What were they talking about?

“Are you going to meet the others?” Shirabu asked, looking up at Goshiki the smallest amount. Goshiki had always noted the fact that Shirabu always tried to make it look like he wasn’t looking  _ up  _ when he talked to people, but also had to anyway. 

“Uh, probably not, actually-” he began. Shirabu hummed in acknowledgement, and the two walked further on in silence. Inevitably, however, they reached the fork that divided the paths between each year group’s accommodation.  _ ‘That was a bust,’  _ Goshiki thought, moving to wave goodbye.

“So I’ll see you la-”

“D’you wanna come help me sort this out?” Shirabu cut him off, because he was  _ always doing that.  _ It didn’t help with Goshiki’s surprise at the statement, thought.

“What?”

“I mean, it’s a Friday night, and you’re a huge part of the team  _ anyway _ -” he trailed off, pointedly looking at Goshiki, waiting for an answer. It took a moment to get through his head, but when it did, he nodded enthusiastically. Shirabu sighed, already seeming exasperated, and began to walk towards his dorm.

“Thank you, Shirabu-san!” Goshiki called, dashing after him to fall into step once again.

\-----

“Keep your knees low!” 

“Fix your timing!” 

“Move from your legs, don’t swing your arms!” 

“You have to jump  _ higher!”  _

Where the ambient noise had previously been squeaking shoes and calls of ‘Nice receive!’, it was now almost entirely Shirabu yelling. Since the weeks had begun to pass and Shirabu had started noticing how soon the Inter-High Preliminaries were, training had essentially been overlaid with a long list of things people had to fix. 

They were there to  _ win,  _ so it wasn’t the case that anyone minded, not really. These tournaments previously had been entered with the expectation that they would win the prefecture at least, and usually they did. But now that there was an upset in the trend? Now that they knew they had a team that could  _ stop them?  _ That put pressure on the new captain. 

“That’s all for today, go get changed.” 

It was quarter past ten, Wednesday evening, and they had been working hard until exhaustion, as usual. With groans of assent, the team dispersed, making their way to the door. 

“Goshiki?” Shirabu broke the quiet haze around the room; everyone looked up. Goshiki piped up, turning to his captain. “Can you stay back for a second?” 

The others cast glances at each other, beginning to smirk at Goshiki’s tense expression before being ushered out under Shirabu’s glare.

“Yes, captain!” He called, jogging back over to where Shirabu stood in a small bout of nervous energy. “What is it?” 

Shirabu waited until the last stragglers left, before gesturing for him to sit down. Goshiki fiddled with the tape on his fingers, waiting for Shirabu to begin speaking. After the silence dragged on, he chanced a look up at him, and was surprised to see him worrying away at the skin on his bottom lip.  

“What’s wrong?” He asked; Shirabu glanced up to give him a look. 

“I need your help,” he said. Goshiki rose his eyebrows.

“Really?” he exclaimed, half in excitement and half in shock, because really, he couldn’t help it. Shirabu actually asking for  _ his  _ help?

“Don’t sound so surprised!” Shirabu yelled back, face the smallest bit flushed. Goshiki jumped, nodding quickly to try and rectify the situation. 

“So what’s up?” he questioned, moving Shirabu along. He stayed silent for another few moments, but eventually spoke, quietly. 

“I’m not used to telling people how to fix themselves,” (Goshiki stifled a laugh; Shirabu glared; Goshiki shut up.) “ _ without  _ having someone tell me how to fix myself.” 

Goshiki nodded thoughtfully as he began to piece together what he was asking.

“So… you want me to order you around?”

“Shut up,  _ no!  _ I want you to point out if I’m doing something wrong and let me know so I can fix it!” He exclaimed. Goshiki made a face of understanding and a noise of assent, making Shirabu nod firmly and stand up to gather his things. 

“Is that all?” Goshiki asked, following Shirabu’s lead to stand and grab his things. 

Shirabu nodded and the two made their way out, walking side by side. They began in silence, walking through the dark campus for a while. Inevitably, however, Goshiki broke it. 

He had been stealing glances down at Shirabu, as subtly as he could manage, and hadn’t failed to notice that the lip biting hadn’t ceased since they left the gym. 

“Are you ok?” he asked, drawing Shirabu out of his haze to glance up at his teammate. 

“I’m fine,” he said, returning his eyes to the path ahead of him

“Really? Because, you do this thing with your lips when you’re nervous-” he began. Shirabu’s eyes widened. 

It was a nervous habit that Shirabu had had for as long as he could remember, and most people didn’t pick up on it. _ ‘Why did Goshiki?’ _ he asked himself.

(Perhaps it was how much Goshiki had been staring at him recently, or specifically, how often Goshiki looked at his lips. Shirabu, of course, was too preoccupied noticing Goshiki nervously fiddling with his taped fingers to tell.)

“I- yeah, I guess I’m just a bit worried about Inter-Highs,” he muttered. 

“Why’s that?” Goshiki pressed. Shirabu didn’t look up at him, and didn’t stop biting at his lip. After a long beat of silence, wherein Shirabu could  _ feel  _ Goshiki getting ready to speak, he took a deep breath and spit it out.

“I’m a shit captain, and if someone like  _ Ushijima  _ couldn’t bring us to nationals, how the hell am I supposed to?” He said, practically exhaling the entire sentence in one breath. After another pregnant pause, he chanced a glance up at Goshiki, only to find him wide eyed and surprised, with his mouth dropped open. 

“You really need to keep your mouth closed when you’re surprised,” he muttered, which broke Goshiki out of his stupor. They had stopped at this point, standing stationary in the path. Knowing Goshiki, of course, being truly still was impossible.

“You’re not a bad captain!” He exclaimed, throwing his hands out to the side and waving them a teeny bit. “You’re great at it! You try extra hard to help us improve, and are super aware of how to improve yourself, and are always spending time organising plays, and you’re encouraging, and you’re strong as hell, and-” 

He trailed off when he noticed Shirabu’s equally wide eyes, and the red flush making it’s way across his face. 

“What is it?” 

“Nothing, I just-” he began, looking down at the ground. “Thanks, Goshiki.”

Goshiki’s smile brightened. 

“Of course, Shirabu-san! I’m your ace, right by your side to help!” He exclaimed, and this time, Shirabu’s smile started to mirror his. 

They began to walk again, until they reached the fork in the path again and waved goodbye to each other. 

“My ace, huh…” Shirabu mumbled, looking back to see Goshiki’s figure dashing along the path, eager to get back. He smiled to himself, turning around and walking along, already feeling lighter. 

By the time he got into his dorm, he was thinking about what Goshiki’s playing style would be like in the next tournament. By the time he was finishing his shower, he was thinking about how different he was from the Spring Prelims. By the time he was sat in his bed reading, he was thinking about how kissing him now would be different after the kiss at Inter-Highs. 

By the time he was lying in bed ready on the precipice of sleep, he knew he was fucked. 

“I can never bring this up to him  _ ever,”  _ he groaned. 


	2. Birthdays and Mistakes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> poor life choices: the chapter
> 
> REMEMBER: SOBER CONSENT IS IMPORTANT
> 
> that being said this chapter includes drunken sexual shenanigans, so tread carefully

After the Inter-Highs finished, and the team was back on track, the year passed in a blur. Although volleyball and his grades were at their peak, however, Shirabu himself was nothing but tense and frustrated. By December, he wasn’t much more than a tangle of nerves. Of course, he reasoned, the solution was to go to the birthday party of some random third year he knew from a college prep maths class and get absolutely  _ plastered _ .  

The night began calmly enough. There was nothing like parties thrown in the dorm rooms of boarding school students to liven up their lives. It had started with just a small selection of third years, before more and more and more mutual friends arrived, and soon enough the entire floor was filled with students and minimal levels of sobriety.

“Taichiiiiii-” Shirabu moaned, leaning his face against his teammate and friend’s shoulder. His cheek puffed out, and he let Taichi poke at it. At least he wasn’t the only drunk one. 

“Taichiii, I’m so  _ drunk _ , and so  _ gay _ , and it  _ sucks _ ,” he continued. Taichi merely laughed, nodding along and fluffing up his hair. Shirabu absently felt his head move up and down as his friend’s shoulders shook with laughter. 

“I feel you, man,” he hummed. “Go kiss a boy, make yourself feel better.” 

Shirabu nodded. Solid advice, he figured, and wandered around from room to room. The longer he loitered, however, the less determined he got, and the more he just got plain frustrated. Sure, there were loads of cute boys, there always were. But none of them were boys - well,  _ boy - _ he wanted. 

Finally deciding to give up, he sat down in a free space, around a set of kids - second years, he thought - having a heated discussion.  _ ‘Always my cup of tea,’  _ he thought, sneaking another drink from their stash.

“Shi-” someone yelled, broken by a hiccup, then “Shirabu-san!” 

He looked up, to find Goshiki sitting across the circle from him. Bottles of fruity beer and a half empty bottle of rum lay around him, and while it wasn’t likely he drank  _ all  _ of them, he sure seemed to have been in charge of a fair few. 

Before he could acknowledge him, however, the tall boy had scrambled up and skipped (read: fell) across the circle to flop down next to Shirabu. He laughed softly, ignoring the clench in his gut in favour of ruffling Goshiki’s black hair as he leant against his shoulder. 

After the snickers circulating the circle quietly died off, the people in the circle went back to loudly arguing about something or other, leaving Shirabu to zone out in his own drunk world, still absentmindedly playing with his friends hair. He could hear Goshiki chiming in his additions to the conversation for a little bit, before he eventually, and only slightly uncharacteristically, fell quiet. 

Curious, Shirabu glanced down at him, wondering if he had fallen asleep. He was met with wide eyes looking back up at him, and a bright smile. As he rose his eyebrows to question what the fuck he was doing, two arms wrapped around his middle, and Goshiki’s face slid down his side. 

“What are you doing _? _ ” He asked, not harshly as usual, but with a soft hum. Goshiki giggled into his shirt. 

“Hugging you!” was the muffled response, only barely intelligible from the cloth against his mouth. His breath tickled Shirabu’s skin.

“Get up, idiot,” he said, pulling Goshiki away from his stomach by the back of his shirt. Soon enough Goshiki resettled, but none the less kept his hand touching Shirabu in some shape or form.

“I really like you, Shirabu-san. You’re a-” hiccup. “You’re a good friend. Even when you’re mean.”

Shirabu looked over at Goshiki with wide eyes. His face seemed far closer, this time, and Shirabu felt his heart beat heavily in his chest.

“I like you too, Tsutomu,” Shirabu said. “A very good ace.” Goshiki’s eyes widened in turn, near comically, before he broke down into giggles and dropped his head onto Shirabu’s shoulder. Shirabu stared down at him, before slowly adding his small chuckles to the chorus. Before long, it devolved into the two of them leaning against each other laughing senselessly, hands still in hair or on arms.

“Well, you’re the better kisser,” Goshiki added after a while, looking up at Shirabu but still giggling softly, and eventually knocking his face lightly against Shirabu’s head. Shirabu stilled.

_ ‘Oh,’  _ he thought.

“Oh,” was all he said. Was his face warm from the alcohol, at this point, or Goshiki? 

Goshiki, on the other hand, began to waver; as the laughter dissipated, and Shirabu stayed staring at him in the cramped, sweaty room, he seemed to get paler and paler.

“You- you okay?” Shirabu asked, finally sitting up fully and shuffling away from his friend to try and see his face.

“I feel s-sick,” was the response, muffled from where he had shoved his face against Shirabu’s arm. Shirabu’s eyes widened, but he only just sighed. He looked up and around for literally  _ anyone else to take him outside. _

_ ‘Because I am too drunk and gay for this,’  _ he thought to himself.

When he couldn’t find anyone else who he trusted to actually take care of the boy (and when he realised that drunk Goshiki blabbering to some random person was The Worst Idea Ever) he grabbed him by the arm and lead him out of the packed room, down the corridor to the slightly quieter stairwell around the corner. Reaching it, he nudged the taller boy until he sat down against a wall - wavering and wobbling as he did, of course - and arranged his body so he had his head between his bent up knees, hands curled into his hair.

“Just, deep breaths, I guess?” he said, kneeling down next to Goshiki so he could hear him. Then, to himself only just above a whisper, “I am  _ not _ sober enough for this.”

They stayed there quietly for a moment, Goshiki breathing slowly to try and keep the contents of his stomach  _ not  _ on the floor, and Shirabu’s upper body swaying from side to side. As he slowly became aware of his body, he realised he had put his hand on Goshiki’s arm.

“Huh,” he mused aloud, staring intently at his hand where it sat on the other boy, rousing the attention of the other drunk boy as he did. 

“Wha-?” Goshiki asked, looking up at Shirabu. The two stared at each other for a moment, Shirabu’s hands on Goshiki, neither of their eyes very focused, and both of their bodies very, very red. 

And then Shirabu was kissing him, or he was kissing Shirabu, or  _ something _ , because one moment they were sat apart, and the next, Goshiki was on the floor.

The force Shirabu used to kiss Goshiki with would have been enough to shove him back even if he had been prepared for it; as it was, he flopped back onto the floor like a rag doll, and Shirabu crawled over him, hands on either side of his head and chests parallel. He wouldn’t have thought to check whether or not Goshiki was content on the floor in any other circumstance, but the waiting and wanting, the build up of utter desperation after the months of it he had under his belt _ \-  _ he wasn’t going to wait another second. 

It wasn’t an awkward, uncomfortable, teary kiss in a public bathroom this time. This was the result of god knows how much tension and confusion, and  _ Christ, _ was Shirabu ready to get an outlet for it. 

It was Goshiki reaching up and throwing his arms around Shirabu’s neck to pull him down on top of him, and Shirabu mentally mapping out the building to figure out who’s dorm was closest, and Goshiki arching into him and Shirabu threading his hands through Goshiki’s  _ stupid  _ bowl cut, and-

“Wait, wait, wait-” Shirabu muttered, ignoring the whine beneath him. 

“Don’t kiss me and then stop, Shirab-” Goshiki was cut off with another kiss. He gasped as Shirabu bit his lip.

“Shut the fuck up, I’m not going to stop kissing you, I’m going to try and  _ not have someone walk in on us,”  _ he hissed. Goshiki’s eyes beneath him widened, and then they were both scrambling to stand up, hands on waists and sneaking under shirts, legs bumping with every step, hazy, tipsy minds deciphering where they were, until Shirabu finally,  _ finally _ shoved open the younger boy’s bedroom door and physically dragged Goshiki in behind. 

The second the door shut, Goshiki was pressed against it, again, and Shirabu was on his lips and neck and pulling his shirt over his head so he could kiss down his chest. His hands thread into Shirabu’s hair and yanked it, hard, and Shirabu keened.

They both paused, looking at each other for a split, embarrassed second. 

“Holy shit,” Goshiki gaped, eyes wide, before Shirabu was kissing him again and effectively shutting him up. Goshiki’s hands tightened in his hair again, and Shirabu gasped, letting Goshiki prod his tongue into Shirabu’s mouth, licking at the back of his teeth and sucking his lip into his mouth. Soon enough, though, Shirabu was disentangling himself to move his head down to Goshiki’s neck and started pressing open mouthed kisses and small bites against it. 

“How far are you gonna go?” he heard Goshiki mutter above him, in between a moan. He pulled back, looking Goshiki in the eye. His face was flushed and the smallest bit sweaty; a very,  _ very _ small part of Shirabu wondered if he looked the same.

“Do you want me to stop?” he asked.

“Jesus _ christ,  _ no,” Goshiki moaned, going to move Shirabu down again. The older boy held firm, shoving his hands against Goshiki’s shoulders to try and decipher whether or not this was a good idea, while simultaneously trying to ignore the gasp Goshiki let out at the feeling of being pressed into the wall, when all he wanted to do was hear it again and again. 

He blinked, noticing Goshiki’s wide eyes and red cheeks. And the more he noticed that, the more he noticed his clearly kissed lips, his tousled hair, his heavy breathing, his bare chest flushed red-

“Fuck,” he whispered, and then they were kissing, again, but now with purpose.

“B-” Goshiki began, cut off by another kiss. He tried again. “Bed?”

“No,” Shirabu said, simply but harshly, “right here.” Goshiki moaned, and Shirabu felt him nod against the kiss. He slid down against the wall marginally, forearms still resting against Shirabu’s shoulders.  

Shirabu shuffled, pressing his thigh in between Goshiki’s in the process - genuinely for the sake of balance, but he gasped when he felt how affected the other boy already was. He spared a glance at Goshiki, and noticed the embarrassed flush on his face. He couldn’t help but laugh softly, pressing a kiss against the corner of his mouth as his hand slipped between the two of them.

“Your shirt-” Goshiki said, pulling at Shirabu’s sleeve before cutting himself off with a loud gasp as Shirabu ground his hand against him. Shirabu huffed, pulling back to tug off his shirt, but choked on a surprised moan as Goshiki grabbed his hips and ground them together. 

“Fuck,” Shirabu hissed; Goshiki used his surprise as a distraction to reach down and unbutton his jeans so he could start touching him properly, while moving to kiss his neck again. “You’re-  _ ah,  _ surprisingly good at this, Tsutomu-” he said, and felt Goshiki hum against him.

“Fuck,  _ Tsutomu- _ ” He heaved, digging his fingers hard into Goshiki’s hips and bringing them closer to his.

“Shira- _ ah!” _

_ “Kenjirou,”  _ Shirabu growled, drawing Goshiki’s attention to him.

“Wha-”

“My name is  _ Kenjirou,  _ you- oh  _ fuck,” _ he cut himself off, and used the pause to go back to kissing Goshiki, biting his lip in the process. Belatedly, he realised he should do more than grind against Goshiki, if they were in it together, and he reached down to add his hand to the fray, feeling Goshiki’s hips buck up against his palms almost instantly.

“Tsutomu-  _ ah,  _ you feel so  _ good, _ ” he panted, and was surprised to hear Goshiki moan loudly against him. He blushed at the sound of it, but knew what he had done, and was going to exploit the hell out of it. 

“You’re doing brilliantly, Tsutomu-” he gasped out. He had been starting to reach his limits, but as he spoke, Goshiki moaned again, loudly, and with a few twitching stutters, he was falling over the edge, still touching at Shirabu until he followed.

As if in a trance, the two stumbled to his bed, both still in a tipsy, post-orgasm haze and flopping onto it, shedding their jeans and shoes as they went. 

“This’ll just be a problem for sober Kenjirou,” he muttered, burrowing into the covers. Goshiki didn’t respond, already knocked out. And then, soon enough, so was Shirabu.

\-----

He woke up quickly the next morning, with a jolt - like he had been falling. A glance towards the window showing that it was still dark outside, and after fumbling around for his phone, he saw it was only just 6 am.

_ ‘Perfect start to a Saturday’,  _ he thought, sitting up groggily and pressing the heel of his hand to his eyes. And to make things worse, his legs  _ ached.  _ It wasn’t even having gone too hard at practice the day before, it was the party -

“The  _ party _ ,” He groaned, quietly, flopping back down onto the bed, as memories started to clear out of the fuzz currently called his brain. He had shut his eyes, tightly. ‘ _ Why, why, why me-’  _ he chanted internally, before gathering his courage and opening his eyes.

He had turned his head to the side, and found himself looking off the edge of the bed. Sure enough: not his bedroom. It was a mess, whereas he always kept his dorm neat and tidy. All across the floor, strewn about, were pencils and t-shirts and magazines and  _ a fucking number 8 jersey,  _ in haphazard piles over every visible surface.

He shot half a glance to the figure on the other side of him, bundled up in about three or four blankets so only a few wisps of black hair stuck out of the top visibly. Wordlessly, and in trying to cause as small amount of jostling possible, Shirabu sat up and slipped out of bed, beginning the hunt for his clothes. 

At 6:07 am, he shut the door with a soft click and began the trek back to his own room.

\----

What better cure for a hangover was there than practicing serves at 9 am?

Shirabu could think of many, but figured the queasy feeling in his gut was something he deserved. 

The team had practice off that day - Shirabu sent a sympathy message out to all of them, considering how many he had seen last night absolutely off their faces. 

_ “I am not mentioning this to anyone,”  _ he thought, half way through his third cart of volleyballs, for what was approximately the sixty-third time in the past three hours. 

As he carried on hitting ball after ball, he let his mind wander. He had been trying to use serve practice to occupy his thoughts, but by this point in his sports career it was all muscle memory, and after only a small while he found his mind not even taking in whether or not the serve had been good. 

“Fuck,” he muttered to himself, again. Spitting out random expletives had also seemed to have become a running trend of his morning. His thoughts began to stray further, and he promptly got to biting at the skin on his bottom lip. 

He could remember the events of the night, but not how much he drank. Not how much Goshiki drank, either. Had Goshiki been sober enough for what they had done? Had  _ he  _ been sober enough for what they’d done? He remembered asking Goshiki if he wanted to stop, but what if Goshiki only remembered what followed, and not anything before? 

For that matter, did Goshiki remember  _ any _ of it? Shirabu had a talent for remembering things he said and did while drunk, but even his memories were foggy. But he wasn’t even sure how often Goshiki drank, let alone how he got the morning after. And as he entertained that vein of thought, he couldn’t tell which would be worse: him having remembered any of it and bringing it up, or forgetting all of it.

He hit a particularly hard serve, watched as the ball bounced hard and ricocheted to hit the far wall. With a huff, he stopped, running a hand through his sweaty hair. 

By this point in the year he was willing to accept that he had developed at least  _ some  _ feelings for his teammate, but the worry of whether or not he was still using him for physical affection remained. The way the first kiss played out - that had complicated things, he supposed. 

_ “No shit,”  _ he reminded himself harshly. But at the same time, Goshiki  _ had _ kissed him back. Had he had feelings at the time? Was it a mistake, had Shirabu unwittingly gave him the wrong message? It was highly unlikely that he had genuine feelings for Shirabu (hell, Shirabu hardly knew if  _ he  _ had genuine feelings for Goshiki), but what if? 

“I’m not going to mention it,” he said to himself,  _ again _ . How many times that thought had come and stuck in his head, he didn’t know. All he knew was that unless Goshiki brought it up, it’d remain unsaid.

\-----

The first thing Goshiki did when he woke up, at just past 2pm, was curl into his extra blankets and groan loudly into them. The second thing he did was roll out of bed and try to drink a solid 12 litres of water - how far he got into that endeavour he wasn’t sure, but figured that was the first step to any possible relief from his hell of a hangover. 

He sat gingerly down on his bed after that, wrapping one of his blankets over his head. He remembered a fair bit of the night, sure, but there was one thing that had stuck in his head, that he had in his mind right off the bat of waking up. 

_ Being pressed into the wall, with his hands on slim hips, and a chapped mouth on his neck, and a thigh pressed between his, and that  _ hand,  _ rough with the callouses all volleyball players had- _

He groaned, pressing his face into his blanket and feeling his face heat up at the memory alone. 

The worst part? He wasn't entirely certain it had actually happened. 

“I just dreamt I slept with my captain,” he moaned into the blanket covering his face, as if telling the empty room would make it any less embarrassing. 

He knew he had developed feelings for Shirabu along the way in the past year, no matter how much of a jerk he was as a person. But this was something else entirely - a dream that vivid, that he wanted so desperately to be reality. That just made things fucking awkward. 

He sat up, looking down at his pillow intently. Unless it  _ had  _ actually happened? He glanced at his phone. Surely,  _ surely _ Shirabu would mention it, or at least, stick around. They were close enough friends, right? 

Even if he didn't feel the same way as Goshiki, and was just drunk, that was fine - really, a year with Ushijima-san made him very prepared for unrequited crushes. 

He grabbed his phone and fiddled with it for a moment.

On the other hand. 

If he  _ hadn't  _ actually slept with Shirabu, and it was all a dream… how uncomfortable would he be hearing his teammate had a ridiculously vivid sex dream about him? 

Goshiki frowned. Well. That put a stop to  _ that  _ idea. 

He huffed, tossing his phone to the side and crawling back under his collection of blankets. He'd just have to wait to see if Shirabu brought it up. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ahem. im just gonna. hide. now. bleh /)(\


	3. Graduations and Declarations

“Shirabu-san?”

The light knocking on his door and the soft call from the other side drew his attention away from the sight in the mirror. He was in his uniform, freshly cleaned and pressed. Exactly as he had been trying to present himself every day for the past three years. 

And here he was, wearing it for the last time. 

“Shirabu-san? Are you there?”

He moved to the door, remembering that he wasn’t actually alone. He cracked it open to peer out, before stepping back and opening the door all the way when he saw it was only Goshiki. He smiled awkwardly; Shirabu returned it.

“Some of the old third years are back to see the team, and to wish you and Kawanishi-san luck,” he said, simply. Shirabu nodded. 

“Thanks,” was all he found to respond with, grabbing the things he needed and shutting the door behind him.

The two walked in silence, heading through the campus as it readied for that day’s graduation in order to make their way to the clubroom.

True to their word, neither of them had said a single thing about what had happened between them. Their friendship had taken a hit, sure, but they were nothing if not stubborn and determined to save face. 

As the two pushed open the door to the crowded clubroom, Shirabu’s eyes caught instantly on the tall, broad-shouldered figure that had occupied so much of his thoughts the prior two years, and his breath caught in his throat.

Ushijima turned around, from where he had been talking to Taichi, and nodded at Shirabu. He smiled, awkwardly, as the two made their way over. 

“Shirabu-san, congratulations.”

“Thank you, Ushijima-san,” he responded, smiling up at his prior captain. As he said hello, however, he noticed a distinct change. Where he had previously gotten butterflies at any of Ushijima’s direct conversations with him, he just felt a strange fondness. Not like anything he had felt for his senior before, but rather, something more akin to how he felt towards the first years under his captainship.

The club, reunited, swapped stories to reminisce and laugh with each other about the past year until it was time for the two third years to make their way to the celebration. Goshiki was at the centre of the conversation, sharing stories of his prideful position as ace and his plan as next year’s captain, and whining as Tendou reiterated that he’d heard stories of how he still hadn’t grown out of forgetting his shoes in the gym. As the group finally made their way towards the celebration a while later, however, the final remaining student began to lag behind a small amount. 

“Are you okay, Tsutomu?”

Ushijima’s voice, cutting suddenly into his disjointed thoughts, caused him to jump, and he nodded vigorously. 

“Y-Yes, brilliant!” He responded. Ushijima nodded, eyeing him curiously none the less. They walked in silence for another few moments, before Ushijima spoke again, his voice low and quiet.

“I’m very proud of you, Tsutomu. You’re becoming a strong and formidable ace, who can do whatever he sets his mind to,” he began. Goshiki looked up, eyes wide and face beginning to flush at the praise. “Be brave and take risks, because you’re strong. You don’t have much time left, so use it to the fullest of your ability.”

“I-” Goshiki began, at a loss for words. He looked down at his feet as he walked along, images and thoughts and past daydreams swirling through his head, and it hit him. Shirabu graduates today.

_ Shirabu graduates today. _

After today, he didn’t know when the next time he’d see him was.  _ It was now or never.  _

“Thank you, Ushijima-san!” He called out, louder than he intended, drawing looks from his previous teammates as they walked ahead of him.

Throughout the ceremony, he jittered nervously in the stands as he watched, hardly paying attention. He was almost definitely certain that his bouncing leg was annoying Semi, who was stuck sitting next to him, but wasn’t focused enough to care.

The moment the ceremony concluded and the third years began to shuffle out, Goshiki stood up and dashed out, ignoring the confused noises of the teammates he left behind. He made his way through the throng of third year students crying and hugging each other, until he eventually reached Shirabu, Taichi and a collection of their classmates.

“Shirabu-san!” He called out, drawing the attention of the group. Shirabu’s eyes widened for a split second, before he composed himself and rose a curious eyebrow instead. 

“Uh, give me a minute, please-” he said, stepping away and eyeing Goshiki suspiciously as he was led to a corner. 

“What do you want?” he asked, quietly and harshly, and Goshiki wavered, realising he had absolutely no plan. 

“Listen, I just- I really need to talk to you, but not here, so can we-?” he said, trailing off and gesturing around without any particular direction. Shirabu rolled his eyes and sighed, roughly. 

“Taichi, Goshiki needs me to help him organise something for the team. I’ll see you in a bit,” he called, receiving a shrug and soft nod in affirmation, before letting himself be led by the tall boy full of nervous energy. He made a confused noise as Goshiki took him outside of the building and around a corner. 

“What are you-”

“Shirabu-san! I had a conversation with Ushijima-san earlier on and he inspired me to act because I don’t know how much time I have left, and if I’m going to improve, which I really want to do, I need to take risks, and I’m pretty sure he was talking about volleyball, but it also applies to other parts of my life, which is an irrelevant fact but very in line with Ushijima-san’s advice so it is at least kind of relevant to setting the scene, but the point  _ is,”  _ he said, gasping in a deep breath as he tried to breathe normally. Shirabu noticed he hadn’t actually been doing so when he was speaking.

“The point is, I really  _ like you, _ ” he breathed out, and Shirabu’s eyes widened suddenly, all thoughts of Goshiki’s breathing patterns out the window. “And I thought all these feelings wouldn’t go away but then I had this very intense dream after that one party we went to and it’s embarrassing and I hate that I acted differently for so long afterwards because of it, but I was confused and didn’t want you to think less of me so I didn’t say anything, and-”

“Wait, wait, what did you have a dream of?” Shirabu said, cutting him off harshly. He had been turning a bit red anyway, again because he was doing more talking than breathing. Shirabu didn’t really pay much mind to that, because his face was heating up just as much, with his heart in his stomach beating wildly. Goshiki merely squeaked, and averted his eyes.

“Uh, we- well, we went back to my room, and-” 

Shirabu groaned, putting his head in his hands. Goshiki blinked. 

“Uh, Shirabu-san-”

“You mother _ fucker, _ ” Shirabu spit, still not making eye contact with Goshiki and refusing to admit to himself that he was blushing.

“I’m sorry?”

“That wasn’t a  _ dream, _ ” Shirabu yelled, loudly and suddenly, finally looking up to glare daggers at Goshiki. He stood still for a moment, rolling over the words in his head before his eyes widened, and he somehow managed to flush even darker. 

“Wait, so we actually-”

“Yes!” he shrieked, the hands out in front of him beginning to shake, perhaps from the utterly ridiculous nature of the whole situation. That, or hysteria. 

Goshiki remained silent, eyes still wide, face still wildly pink. Shirabu’s began to match, embarrassment rising with each passing moment of silence. 

“Fuck,” Shirabu swore, as he began to think about what Goshiki had said further. “Fuck, so you don’t- you don’t remember any of it?”

Goshiki shrugged, slowly. Shirabu groaned. 

“Oh God, I’m a horrible person,” he moaned, dropping his face into his hands. Goshiki jumped to attention, shaking his head quickly.

“No, no- Shirabu, you’re not-”

“Who  _ does that,  _ oh God-”

“I decided that it was too good to have actually happened so I put it down to a very vivid dream but I still kept wishing that it  _ had  _ actually happened and now I’m very happy that it did, even if I’m a bit sad I don’t remember all of it!” Goshiki yelled, cutting off Shirabu’s nervous ramble with one of his own. He looked up from where his hands were on his face, and stared at Goshiki for a while.

It was true, that in the past year he had grown up. Very much so, in fact. Evidently, he was more mature than Shirabu in quite a few respects - communication wise, for instance. Shirabu knew he’d have been more than happy to let his awkward and mildly shameful past die with him. (Although, honestly, he doubted he’d have been  _ truly _ happy.)

And here he was, a year and a half on from kissing this boy in a grimy toilet because he lost a stupid match and got sad, with said boy having spit out a really quite impressively extensive confession mere moments ago. Because why, he realised taking risks are important, and didn’t want to throw something like this away? 

The more he thought about it, the more Shirabu began to agree with the logic. 

He took a deep breath, taking a moment to recollect himself before awkwardly shuffling closer to Goshiki, and took the younger boys hands in his. 

“Okay. Listen. I’m sorry I kissed you at the tournament last year, and started off this whole train wreck. I was upset and emotional, and- yeah. And, I’m sorry we slept together if you don’t remember it,” he said. Goshiki blushed, and muttered a small “s’fine,” before Shirabu cut him off to carry on.

“But at the same time, I would definitely do it again. But sober. Because I’ve had so many  _ fucking  _ feelings and you’re a goddamn hassle, but I like you too-”

And then Goshiki was kissing him. 

It wasn’t like the first time, where they were both puffy-eyed and hurt. It wasn’t like the second time, where they were just hammered and tense. This time, it was romantic. Sweet, even. Just a chaste press of his lips against Shirabu’s. Shirabu half noted that Goshiki’s hands twitched and grasped tighter onto his as it had happened, but only as an afterthought - honestly, he was too preoccupied with the entire feeling of his lips against Goshiki’s, and what it felt like when he was clear-headed. 

“You’ve done amazing things with the team this year, Shirabu, and we’re all proud to call you our captain,” Goshiki said as he pulled away, smiling softly. Shirabu turned away, hiding his face in his shoulder before pulling his hand away and pinching Goshiki’s arm. 

“Ow! What was that for?” He cried. Shirabu glanced back up at him out of the corner of his eyes.

“For taking your damn sweet time in telling me you liked me,” he said. Goshiki spluttered. 

“You wouldn’t have said  _ anything  _ if I hadn’t first!” He yelled.

Shirabu laughed, and kissed him again, and it didn’t matter.  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ushijima excels at misunderstanding what his team is worried about but managing to give solid advice anyway 
> 
> thats all, sans the epilogue! hope you enjoyed it, and as always come yell abt hq and rare pairs with me @americanbeautiies.tumblr.com!


	4. Goodbyes and Beginnings

“I’m still going to be in Miyagi, you know,” Shirabu muttered, rubbing his hand softly against Goshiki’s. The other boy nodded, silent still. Shirabu sighed. His head was leaning against Goshiki’s shoulder, as they sat on his bed, in a stripped down and bare room. The rest of his things were already in the car, ready for the drive down to his new university. It had been a very intense time, between his graduation and where he was now.  Hell, it had been an intense time between where he was now and where he was just last year. And honestly? He didn't know what to make of any of it. 

He glanced up at Goshiki, and watched him stare off into space for a while before he asked what had been on his mind for a while.

“It’s not just me leaving, is it, that you’re worrying about.”

Goshiki cracked a smile at that. 

“I’m finally a third year. And I’m not just the ace anymore, I’m the captain too.” he said. Shirabu hummed, playing with their hands, where they held each other.

“Now you know the struggle, you little shit,” he said. Goshiki laughed. 

“What am I gonna do?” he asked, voice cracking a small amount. At this, Shirabu sat back and took Goshiki’s face in his hands and squishing his cheeks together, making him look him in the eyes the whole while.

“You’re going lead the team to victory, because that’s just what you do,” He muttered, pressing a soft kiss to his forehead.

“Kenji, we have to get going or you’ll be late!” his mother called up the stairs. He pulled away and looked him in the eyes.

“You’re going to be brilliant,” he said. Goshiki smiled.

“Visit soon?” he said, as they stood up. Shirabu nodded, as if it was obvious, and stood on his toes to press a kiss against Goshiki’s lips.

With one final hug outside his front door, and Goshiki waving him off as he left his childhood home behind, he curled into a ball in the backseat of his car. Surrounded by his things, heart in his throat, he let himself be driven towards his new life.

As he leaned his head against the window to watch his hometown roll by, however, his phone buzzed against his leg. Pulling it out, he found a message from Goshiki.

**lil bowlcut [11:21am] :** good luck, captain! (´∀｀*)

**。.:☆*:･** **kenji [11:22am] :** right back at you, bowlcut

**lil bowlcut [11:24am] :** prepare to hear absolutely everything about my time as captain!!!

**。.:☆*:･** **kenji [11:25am] :** kill me now

**lil bowlcut [11:27am] :** kenjiiii :(

**。.:☆*:･** **kenji  [11:29am] :** ………

**。.:☆*:･** **kenji  [11:30am] :** fine

**。.:☆*:･** **kenji  [11:30am] :** (´ε｀ )♡

**lil bowlcut [11:32am] :** ♡～ヽ( ´∀｀)ノ

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> shirabu would try to seem indifferent to whether or not goshiki changed his own name to something cute in shirabu's phone but would actually love it more than anything ((on the otherhand he would absolutely hate the idea of goshiki giving HIM a nickname, but begrudgingly accept added sparkles))
> 
> also, captain goshiki anyone? 
> 
> ANYWAY THATS IT, HOPE U LIKE IT, join me in rarepair hell @americanbeautiies.tumblr.com

**Author's Note:**

> shoutout to mitsouparker.tumblr.com for beta-ing, and also high key being the reason i ship shiragoshi in the first place? 
> 
> as always come yell about haikyuu and dumb rare pair ships with me @americanbeautiies.tumblr.com


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